Each word is used only once. You may need to change the word (lexically and/or grammatically) in order for it to fit the context. There are 2 extra words in the box. Transfer your answers into the answer sheet (21–30).
‘Hello Mother, Hello Daughter’: Texts of Misery from Camp
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PACK
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COMPLAIN
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BAD
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FRIEND
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GO
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ALLOW
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COURAGE
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SIGN
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EMOTION
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SLEEP
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ADD
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EAT
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Jennifer Weiner JULY 23, 2015, The New York Times
WHEN my first daughter was born, my mother told me that my life was going to change; that my 21 weather would no longer be dictated by my own moods, but by hers. “You’re only ever as happy as your unhappiest child,” she said.
If my girls become mothers themselves, I’ll tell them the same thing, with an important 22 . “You’re only ever as happy as your unhappiest child,” I will say. “So do not send your unhappiest child to sleep-away camp with an unlimited texting plan.”
My older daughter, who is 12, did not want to go to camp this summer. Her father and I hung tough through months of 23 , of pleading and threats and I-don’t-want-to’s.
I promised my daughter that she would be fine, even while recalling my own misery. I told her that she would make friends, even though I spent months, seasons, entire school years 24 . I told her that this would be good for her; that, even if she didn’t come home with a new B.F.F., she’d at least know that she could depend on herself and survive a tough time.
In June, I drove her to a college campus for a week of sports camp. I made her bed, 25 her clothes, met her counselors and told her I loved her, and then I drove away. It barely occurred to me that she still had her phone and that she 26 to use it.
Six hours after we’d hugged our goodbyes, the texts began (“I hate it here”. “The kids are mean”. “I have no friends”). I tried 27 (“Hang in there! You’ll be fine!”). I used tough love (“No, I am not coming to get you. It’s important for you to stick this out”).
She survived her week — just barely, she insisted. Then, we sent her for two weeks at Camp Number Two. After a week of silence, the letters showed up, three at a time. Even though the camp had warned that the early missives might not be cheery ones, I died inside with every THIS PLACE IS TERRIBLE and GET ME OUT OF HERE and VERY ANGRY card that came 28 with a frownie-face beneath the words YOUR DISGRUNTLED DAUGHTER.
So which was 29 ? At the first camp, I’d had a continuing log of her unhappiness. At Camp Two, I knew she was miserable — I had proof! — but could only guess at the specifics.
Like a lot of kids who initially write home in anger, my daughter ultimately had a ball, coming home tanned and freckled and with a new nickname. Next summer, I think she’ll leave without a backward glance.
When I became a mother, my own mom told me so much about patience and compassion and how to forgive myself when, for example, things 30 according to my plan. I wish that I’d known how this part would feel — the watching and the waiting, letting your kid fall out of the nest, knowing that she might crash.
